Choices of Love
by Anonymous Slasher
Summary: An AU LOTR fic set in modern times. Legolas was kidnapped years ago as a baby; will he ever learn his true heritage? Eventual Aragorn/Legolas slash! Chapter 1 is up. Please review, so I know whether or not this story is a waste of time.
1. Author's Notes

Author's Notes:

Only the unknown characters truly belong to me alone; the rest are J.R.R. Tolkien's own works!

This is an Author's Universe/Alternate Universe for LOTR! The Ring **_never_** existed!

This fic is set in a modern Middle Earth, **with** technology. Many LOTR characters will be in it, however, and most will portray the same personalities that they do in the book and movie!

Rated PG 13 for kidnapping and death. The Rating may change later, though!

There will be eventual m/m slash between Legolas and Aragorn!

To make it easier on everyone, Elvish is simply in ''.

I won't continue the story without at least five reviews!

Hope ya like it!


	2. Prologue

Disclaimers: Read the Author's Notes!

Choices of Love

Prologue:

A figure dressed in a black cloak, wearing dark clothes, crept through the hallways of the palace silently, keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen by any of the late night guards. The hood of the black cloak covered her face and black, raven-like hair, as well as her pointed ears. In her arms, a black blanket was folded, which she carried

Her destination was not surprising, for Morag had been here before, as she was the primary caretaker of the little prince. Ever since his mother had died birthing him, Morag had cared and nurtured the little one as her own, even feeding the newborn babe, for her own son had died in the birthing the day before the little prince was born.

Along the way, Morag easily input the codes into the silent alarms, recalling the passwords that were used. Her mind, however, stayed on the little one.

For the past ten months, the baby had been a sheer delight to her, as Morag cared for him as her own son and, in some part of her mind, she genuinely believed that he **_was_** her son. And now the little one's father was remarrying, which meant that **she** would no longer be needed.

Morag was not going to let anyone take away the little prince from her, for she truly loved him as her own and had vowed to protect him, to keep him safe with her always, never letting him go. It did not matter to her what would happen because of her actions this night; she cared not.

The little boy stirred sleepily in his crib, when he heard footsteps, before he blinked his bright blue eyes back to normal. A thin wail rose from him, at a sudden loud noise, when Morag knocked into one of the lamps. Instantly, she scooped the baby up and cradled him against her.

'Shh, my sweet little one,' she whispered, rocking him back and forth, as a mother would to comfort her child. 'I'm here, everything's all right…'

Little Legolas hiccupped a little, but settled down. His baby mind knew that this was his friend, so he cooed at her, and waved his little arms. He protested slightly when he was wrapped in the dark blanket that Morag had brought, using it to cover the slight, little blond curls of hair, his little, pointed ears, and the pale blue nightshirt and diaper he wore.

Morag stealthily made her way back through the darkened palace, letting the baby suck on one of her fingers to keep him quiet, as she possessively smiled down at the beautiful child, with his wide, expressive azure eyes, his soft, pale skin, and his golden hair, which looked like the rays of the sun.

King Thranduil could have another child with his future wife, Morag told herself, when she hesitated before leaving the palace. She, however, could not; the doctors had told her so. Her guilty feelings melted away when Legolas sleepily yawned and leaned his little head onto her shoulder, before he fell asleep.

So Morag set off into the night, with **her** precious child clutched tightly, using the escape route that she had planned. She would never be seen again in Mirkwood, at least not alive. She had already purchased a home in Gondor, and had all the proper furnishing for a baby there.

The baby could not have known what was happening; he was too little to understand. Besides that, he was asleep. How could he have known what was going on, and that he was being kidnapped from his father and that he would not see his father again for a very long time? His baby mind only knew that he was tired and that Morag was a friend.

In the morning, Thranduil's future wife, Lindel, went to get Legolas, to feed him breakfast. Lindel was fond of the good-natured baby, and she genuinely loved Thranduil. His beautiful little son was very dear to her already, and had been ever since the first time she had laid eyes on him. And her own two sons, from a previous marriage, in which her spouse had died, had declared that Legolas would be their little brother forever and ever. The twins adored him as well, and carried him around, showing him off. Thranduil considered Tilan and Naril as his sons as well, and doted on them as much as he did his own baby boy.

'No!' Lindel cried, when she saw the abandoned crib, with no sign of the baby. She paled, which made her skin nearly match her silvery hair. One of Lindel's hands covered her mouth, before she rushed out of the room, to see if someone else had perhaps gotten little Legolas this morning.

The response- all negatives- devastated her, and Lindel ran to find Thranduil.

'What's wrong, my darling?' Thranduil questioned.

Lindel sobbed, 'He's gone!' Tears dripped down her face, onto the dark green nightgown that she wore.

Thranduil frowned, not understanding. 'Who's gone?' He wore black jeans, with no shirt on.

'Legolas,' she whispered, trembling. 'I went to get him and… he's gone! None of the servants have him, either!'

'What?!' Thranduil jumped to his feet and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 'Legolas is missing?' he said, making certain that he had heard her right.

Wordlessly, Lindel nodded. 'He's not in his crib and… And one of the servants said one of the doors were ajar this morning.' Her tears flowed more freely now, for she was certain that Thranduil would blame her.

Thranduil instead embraced her, reassuring her that it wasn't her fault, and that he did not blame her. At the same time, he summoned his soldiers, and ordered them to search the entire palace for Legolas, and his caretaker. Perhaps they had gone out early, he hoped.

The royal couple joined in the futile search, which only ended when two of the soldiers returned, looking very shaken and distraught.

'Sire?' one tentatively asked.

'Yes?' Thranduil rather sharply answered. He was not known to be sharp, but his baby son was currently missing, and it scared him to death. Little Legolas, whose innocence and sweet nature made him naturally trusting of anyone, especially someone who was nice to him.

The soldier flinched, but the other spoke up. 'Sire, Lady Morag's belongings are gone… along with some food from the kitchen and…' He was not going to say, 'the little prince'. Everyone knew that Morag had cared for the little, motherless child, and that she had understandably been upset at the knowledge that King Thranduil was going to marry.

'Call the rulers of Imladris, Lothlorien, and Rivendell and inform them of what has happened. Find **her**,' Thranduil ordered. 'And bring back my son.'

Lindel let out an anguished cry, for until this moment, she had not wanted to believe that it was true; that Legolas had been kidnapped. Even with all the motion detectors and security alarms, he had been taken away.

Thranduil embraced Lindel, feeling weary suddenly, and afraid… Even more afraid. He berated himself for not having kept a closer curtail on how much time Morag had spent with his baby son, and for not having changed the passwords after he informed her that her services towards his son were no longer necessary.

The future Queen of Mirkwood, and its King comforted each other, as they waited, silently praying to the Valar and Elbereth that little Legolas would be found. 

The messages were given to Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian of Imladris, King Arathorn and Queen Gilrain of Gondor, and Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien with utmost haste. All were sympathetic, having young children of their own, and they readily agreed to assist in the search for the missing little prince, whom they had all met.

Unfortunately, Morag had prepared for every contingency, and neither she nor Legolas were found… The baby prince had vanished without a trace, taken by one that had been considered a close friend.

Lindel and Thranduil married, but did not have any children together. Whether it was because both feared losing a second child, or that the timing wasn't right, they did not know. But both were plagued by memories of a sweet, young voice giggling, as they raised the twins together. The pain died down, but never truly left them. Since they had no children of their own, and after Lindel's two sons grew old enough to care for themselves, Thranduil and Lindel opened a school for poor children in Gondor, funding it sufficiently so that the school would never close because of lack of money.

What hurt the royal couple the most was that many children were named after the missing prince, in a backwards attempt to ease their pain. If anything, it made their pain worse.

Neither ever forgot the sweet, innocent baby that had been taken from them, and missed him, even to this day, fourteen years later…

To be continued


	3. Part 1. Differences

Disclaimers: They're not my characters, except for the unknown ones! I decided to make it so that there is no difference between the elf/human ages; a fourteen year old human would also be fourteen if he/she were an Elf. This is an AU! This is also a Middle Earth where everything is modern, and Aragorn has enough Elven blood to be Immortal. Takes place fourteen years later.

Choices of Love

Part 1. Differences

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Gondor, poor neighborhood

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The loud sounds of horns honking in the street was nothing new, as walking figures went to and from their destinations. The youth that was casually walking along, not attracting any attention to himself, kept a wary eye out for everyone, for he knew that if he were spotted, he would be in big trouble. An almost teenager was never seen walking around at this time. Not on a Monday, at noon, when he should have been in school.

Legolas affected a carefree attitude, though he was aware that he was taking a big chance walking around the neighborhood. But there was nothing better to do; his mom was drinking again, and she, for some insane reason, did **not** want him to go to school. It troubled the young Elf sometimes, how possessively she clung to him.

He couldn't have friends, he couldn't hang out with anyone- not that he had anyone to hang out with, anyway. Legolas bit back a wistful sigh at the longing feeling inside of him, as he trudged along.

The sidewalk that he walked on was broken in places, with deep cracks in it where some flowers grew. It was not smooth at all; instead, it was rough to his feet, because his black shoes had holes in them and were so worn down that they should have been replaced years ago. The holes let Legolas feel the concrete beneath him.

His jeans were lamentable, even laughable, as they hung low on his slender waist, with frayed edges and a few large holes in them, on the legs, showing the skin beneath. The jeans had been washed so many times that the color had faded, as well as the stiffness. They were soft to his thin legs, and did not chafe his skin at all, though Legolas disliked the greyish-blue color they had turned. He had liked the darker blue a lot better, but it couldn't be helped. It was all that could be afforded right now, and at least he had something to wear, Legolas told himself.

His shirt was the opposite, made of a rough fabric that scratched his arms and back, though it looked like it should have been smooth and soft. The black shirt emphasized the lightness of his jeans, and clung to his firm, lean chest, outlining the deceptively small muscles he possessed. No holes were in this shirt, at least, Legolas reflected, as he winced when he shifted his shoulders.

The pale, nearly white hair that hung around his shoulders was light from days spent in the sun, and because of the lemon juice that he rinsed his hair with, at his mother's angry insistence. Legolas didn't understand why she made him do it; he liked his natural golden hair color, but he knew better than to question her rules.

His skin was lighter than cream, though a few bruises marred his young face, just now purpling beautifully. The smooth, silky skin never seemed to get rough, no matter that Legolas worked all the time; doing all the chores at home, as well as working at three different jobs. Getting hired had been the hardest part of getting jobs, for Legolas looked young- very young, for all that he was almost fifteen- he would be in six months.

His brilliant, blue eyes were piercingly sharp, sharp enough to startle anyone, considering how young he was. Right now, a wary, tense look was in them, as Legolas continued his walk, taking in the different sights of the neighborhood.

Anyone looking at him from far away would have mistaken him to be a normal teenager, until they drew closer, close enough to see those strange eyes, which held no emotion whatsoever.

Legolas inwardly sighed when he heard his mother shouting his name. The lean, light Elven youth began sprinting, dashing quickly back towards his mom. He didn't want to upset her, not again.

Part of Legolas hated his mother, and part of him loved her. She was his only family, after all, and he couldn't leave her. He'd been placed in foster homes a few times, when some of the neighbors expressed concern about the cuts and bruises that he was always getting, but Legolas usually got taken home again after a while.

"I'm home, Mom!" he shouted, entering into the tiny, pathetic apartment that was too small to hold a toddler, let alone a teenage boy.

The walls were a dull color of grey, and it was mostly bare. The kitchen was the only place that was properly furnished with furniture, and most of that had been bought for a cheap price, before Legolas had properly fixed up the wooden chairs and tables.

It was one of his few talents; Legolas was very good at wood-carving and at re-finishing things. He'd smoothed the chairs and table out, sanding them, before he had earned enough money at work to buy what he needed to stain them a beautiful, rich, natural wood color. In fact, the few visitors that came by liked what he had done to fix the chairs that they gave him odd jobs, fixing up their own wooden furniture.

A faded blue carpet was on the floor, all around the apartment. A tiny television sat on an overturned bucket, for lack of a second, small table, in the main room. They usually ate on the floor in front of the TV, so no chairs or furniture was in the living room, save for a stained, brown couch that Legolas hated.

There were two tiny rooms; one for Legolas, and one for his mother, and a bathroom.

His room was empty of anything that would signify that it was his, save for his faded and worn clothes, and his shoes. His bed was getting too small for him, for his feet hung out over the end at night now, unless he curled them towards him. The real treasure that Legolas possessed was the small computer and broken printer.

Legolas used the computer to speak to people all over Middle Earth, and didn't mind giving up some of his hard-earned money to keep the computer running, and he was currently saving up some money to get the printer fixed.

Legolas looked at his mom wordlessly, when she came walking over to him. 

Though Legolas was tall for his age, his mother was even taller than him, dwarfing him. Right now, she looked agitated and upset about something, and it showed in how dark her grey eyes were right now.

'We've run out of milk and bread, darling,' Morag told him sweetly in Elvish, with the fresh smell of alcohol on her breath. She held a glass of it in one hand, as she gazed at her beautiful son through the fuzz of alcohol. 'Please go and get some for Mommy.'

'Fine,' Legolas said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, once she gave him the keys to their run-down, barely working car. He'd do anything to get away from her while she was drinking. He loved her enough so that, when she did get drunk and strike him, he could not hit her back. Especially now, of all times.

Morag waved goodbye to her son, as he left again. She was pleased with herself, for she was taking good care of him, just as she had promised. Her eyes carefully measured the remaining wine in her glass, and she decided that it wouldn't hurt to fill it up just once more. After all, she deserved it, putting up with all the nagging from the neighbors over how she treated her son. Legolas was _her_ son, and Morag had told them that they had no right to tell her how he ought to be treated.

The female Elf hiccupped, before she went to get some more wine, giggling slightly.

Legolas sighed, as he buckled his seatbelt, adjusted the mirrors and seat, and placed the key in the ignition. He turned it, and the car sputtered for a few moments, before it finally started. It, like Morag herself, had seen better days.

The paint was peeling, and the inside carpet was permanently stained with coffee and whatever Morag had last eaten in the car.

Legolas carefully backed out of the parking spot, before he pulled onto the street. He just hoped that he wasn't pulled over, for looking so young. He was fairly confident that he wouldn't be, however, because his mother had taught him long ago how valuable it was to act as if you belonged wherever you were. And Legolas was confident in his driving abilities, because he had been driving since he was thirteen.

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Gondor Palace

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Aragorn was decidedly bored, as he gazed around the palace. His friends had gone off camping, but he couldn't go because he was in trouble…again.

This time, the brown-haired seventeen-year-old Prince had come back late from the party that Elladan and Elrohir had been throwing at Imladris. Aragorn's grey eyes flashed with annoyance; it wasn't his fault that he had been late. Everyone had been having a great time, and no one had wanted to leave. At least he hadn't gotten himself kidnapped.

And Aragorn had to admit that he'd had a good time. Arwen, Elrohir, Elladan, and even Naril and Tilan had been there. Their group had hung out together, while all the other teenagers had been dancing and drinking. Aragorn himself hadn't been drinking, but most of his friends did, save for Tilan and Naril. Even Arwen drank and thought Aragorn was slightly strange for not drinking, but she didn't press the matter too much. None of them did, for that matter.

Aragorn shifted in the tight-fitting black jeans that he wore, with a pale, silky white shirt over his well-defined chest and arms. His muscles were rippled with promise, and he was already the strongest of all of his friends- and enemies.

The only reason that the Prince was not in school today was because it had been canceled, while getting updated in technology and a few other things, like fresh painting. It was needed after the graffiti that had been done in the library last week, probably by the troublemakers, aka Boromir and Faramir. The two delighted in causing mischief, which was sometimes amusing to Aragorn, as long as nobody got hurt.

Aragorn let out an aggravated cry and surprised himself when he all but whined, "Elbereth, but I'm **_bored_**!" All of his friends were out having fun, and he was stuck here, doing absolutely nothing. Was it always this boring, Aragorn wondered. He hoped that the month-long break from school would not be as dull as this was. At least his friends weren't going to be gone the entire time. They had the same vacation as him, because they also went to the same school.

The oldest set of twins, Naril and Tilan, went to this school because it was near the one that their parents, the King and Queen of Mirkwood, had established after the kidnapping of their youngest child. Though Aragorn vaguely remembered that the Prince had never been found.

He shrugged, and continued thinking. As for Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen, they were like an extended family to him. They had been fostered at each others' homes during their childhood, and both Elrond and Arathorn were fond of all the children.

Aragorn groaned again. What on all of Middle Earth was he going to do to keep from going crazy while they were all away?

He finally decided to go for a drive, in his new, silvery-blue car. It was better than staying here, with nothing to do, and at least he would get out of the palace for a while.

Aragorn took his sunglasses out of his pocket and flicked the shades over his eyes, before he removed his car keys from his pockets.

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Both Mirkwood and Imladris

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'You need a vacation,' Elrond said, speaking into the receiver of his cell-phone. He was sprawled like a lion across a white sofa, wearing a mostly black outfit, which matched his ebony hair. At the moment, it hung around him freely.

Thranduil retorted, 'Kings don't take a vacation, Elrond. May I remind you that even you have not taken a vacation for quite a long time.' The Elven king sat on a recliner, with his wife next to him. His green shirt and white jeans contrasted with the long, golden hair that Lindel was brushing currently. Her pale, blue dress showed off her silvery hair, as she lovingly stroked her husband's long hair.

Elrond dropped the teasing note before seriously stating, 'I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't you to. Arathorn is going away to visit some relatives, and someone has to keep an eye on the school in Gondor. You don't even have to speak to the students; just make sure it doesn't burn down or something.'

'You aren't going to give up on this, are you?' Thranduil muttered, sensing that this was an argument that he would not win against Elrond.

'Damn it, Thranduil, I know that you are still grieved over what happened, but the world is still moving on,' Elrond snapped. 'If I had lost any of my children… I would probably be doing the same thing. You need a chance to get away from all of that. This is the perfect opportunity. It's only for one school year, after all. Bring Lindel with you.'

Thranduil finally gave in, sighing. 'Fine, Elrond. But you owe me for this. Lindel and I will go to Gondor and watch over the school.'

Elrond smiled, though his friend could not see it. He knew that he was right, that Thranduil and Lindel both needed a chance to relax, without always remembering the loss… It still gnawed at Elrond, when he thought about it.

That sweet, young Prince being snatched away… For years afterwards, Elrond had strictly limited his own childrens' activities, in an effort to prevent what had happened in Mirkwood from happening again.

It never had, which was a blessing, in Elrond's opinion. The children were all too young to remember why their parents had suddenly curtailed what they could do and where they could go, but it was for the best. If a kidnapping could occur in Mirkwood, it could happen anywhere.

Though Elrond sometimes wondered what had happened to the child. Had Legolas died in the hands of the female Elf crazy enough to kidnap him? Did he still live?

Thranduil relaxed when Lindel began massaging his shoulders. 

'You know he means well,' Lindel murmured. 'Perhaps it will do us some good to leave Mirkwood for a while.'

Thranduil merely nodded. 'I hope so.'

Even now, the Elven King still heard the faint echo of the last giggles that Legolas had given him, earlier in the night that he had vanished. The sweet sound haunted him in his and Lindel's dreams.

To be continued


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